The Indefinite Lives Of Hortense Henderson
by notdorkyenough
Summary: Hortense was a small boy when his life was forever changed. His life has become a cycle, a cycle that he wants out of.
1. Chapter 1

Einstein's Theory Of Relativity states that time passes with the observer. During the16th century the thought of a life form other than what humans had known had been ponder that had sent even the strong minded into a whirlwind of childish judgment. During this century, I, Hortense Henderson had been working as an apprentice for a shop keeper. I had been brain washed into thinking that anyone different from I had been the work of a devil. I was taught that children born deformed had been damned by the lord and were the result of the sins of their parents. Like an idiot I had believed this rubbish. That'd been my undoing.

As a child I was a curious being and bore no fear, much to the dismay of my guardians. One day my mother had sent me to the streets to retrieve a loaf of bread from the bakery just yards from my home. As I skipped to my destination, a twinkle from a kiosk had caught my eye and I slowed my pace. I slowly approached the queer establishment. I stopped just a step from the cart and stared at the strange woman behind it. Her gray hair sticking to the leathery tan skin, and her eyes as steely alabaster. Her cloth was graced with patterns I'd never seen before. I looked at her as if she were a being I'd never seen, because she was. With a flick of her wrist the woman pulled me closer with an unfamiliar force. My feet hadn't moved and that frightened me. When my hip nicked the counter I hiccupped.

"Mon enfant, avez-vous peur?" (My child are you afraid?) The woman hissed.

I nodded, my innocent mind not processing her words. I had just returned to France from England after almost five years, my French was infant talk at this point, but if there were to be any word I'd recognize, it would be "peureux", fearful.

"Ne soyez pas. Je suis un ami."(Don't be. I am a friend.) She said far too saccharine.  
>I nodded again. I was so scared it felt as if my heart had wanted a way out and apparently it was my mouth. I vomited, all of my anxiety sloshing from my gut through my mouth.<p>

I coughed and wiped my chin.

"Sorcière!" I screamed and tried to run away. The adults that had been surrounding us all turned to us. The officers that had been stationed near the market ran to my side and lifted the woman carrying her away.

"Je vais vous remettre, mon enfant." She whispered s she was dragged away.

That evening, The towns people had gathered around the gallows in hope of gossip and good show. The woman from earlier had been placed at her post with a rope around her neck while being read her offenses, none that I'd recalled. As she was cursed and sworn to be damned her eyes met mine. She whispered something that was beyond my vocabulary at the time, only now do I understand it, she had uttered "Je te maudis ma chère enfant, jusqu'à ce que vous pouvez aimer quelqu'un omettre vos peurs, vous allez véritablement renaîtreavec chaque partenaire, vous "l'amour"" (I curse you dear child, until you can love someone omit your fears, you will be reborn with each partner you "love")

AN:  
>Um… Hi, my first BTR ever, and my first fic in like two years D: Review please :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Cycle 1

Mid 17th century, when I had been lowered into straw bedding and graced with prayers I expected I'd wake up in the lord's midst, but I was mistaken. When my eyes creased open instead of an Angelic figure with a fluorescent halo, I was confronted with an over crowded infirmary, with an anxious doctor holding me up after releasing me organs from my mother's. I shuddered and exuded a cracking noise as my bottom was smacked and a nurse coddled me with a wet towel and sweet words. I tried to speak, but my words were gibberish. I cried harder. When I tried again, drool dribbled down my chin frustrating me further. I took deep breaths causing the nurse to panic.

"Doctor! He's huffing!" She screeched.

Oh gosh. I thought to myself.

After being stabilized my doctor had announced what I had dreaded.

"Grayson Luther, 8 pounds even, born January 30th, 1897."

I mentally shuddered.

I had lived my life in a upper class family, British born and and over worked. My mother was a housewife, that had served no purpose other than preparing meals and having children, by the time I was fifteen I had been rearing six younger brothers. My father was a politician and business man and had been absent from my life. He hadn't the foggiest idea what any of our names were but he was sure to send us on countless trips and fatten us with sweet meats whenever he saw us.

When I had turned eighteen my father had popped into my party, congratulating me and slipping me a note. Thinking he had bought me something, or even cared to write me a card I excitedly ripped open the envelope. Immediately I frowned.

My dear son,

Due to our nation's involvement in this Great War, I must sadly report to you that you have been chosen to enter our war and serve as a fighter in the ground trenches. You are to report at the east base on February 11, 1915. The official note is behind this, please stay strong for your family, Greyson.

Regretfully, Your father.

I slipped the official note from behind his and there it was, in bold letters.

Due to the condition of Sir William Luther, his draft will be replaced with his oldest son's, Grayson Luther.

My entire body shuddered as I thought about the betrayal I'd be facing. My father was a healthy man, twice my strength, and was to such a degree of a coward he sacrificed my well being, for his.

I hiccupped but before I could break down I dashed from the party and made my way to my tiny room. I had cried for hours, not once moving, until I'd finally come to my senses two day later. I hadn't spoken to anyone in my family until the day before my departure. My brothers had been groveling at my door the entire time. My mother taking no notice.

"I can go instead!" Johnny, the second oldest cried.

"Or me!" Kevin, the one after him sobbed.

Moments later I finally broke my silence and held both of them to my chest.

"It's okay. I don't want either of you repeating that again, okay?"

The two nodded.

I stood up straight and walked past them. Just hours before I had called a cab. The driver was a shaggy man, with ragged facial hair. He gave me a hard glare, as I slipped myself into the seat, with my luggage on my lap. His expression changed as we neared the base. When He stopped he muttered,

"Give those damn German's a piece of our country's mind."

I nodded, "Will do."

I handed him my currency, but he pushed my hand away.

"Free of charge." He stated.

I smiled and slipped out of the cab, scared shitless.

My first step in the process was to be trained to fire a machine gun. I'd learned the basics of a pistol when I was in secondary school, but now I was to learn a more sophisticated curriculum.

When we were set to line up for our orientation. I was stationed next to a handsome man, that I couldn't help giving eyes to. I later learned his name was Joseph Stone and I'd be bunking with him in and out of war.

After six months in the facility we were sent to the trenches, almost a quarter of our men not even making it to the first trench. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed that Joseph had made it. He stood close to me and protected me from my irresponsibility. He'd held me close, so I wouldn't have to rest near anything too disgusting. Whenever we weren't firing Joseph and I had happy conversation, he'd try to keep my spirits up by promising he'd take me to the new restaurant next to his apartment if we made it out alive.

As he told me about his life at home, fire had ceased and we heard a voice yell,

"Move forward!"

I knew what it meant, but I was afraid of what was going to happen next. Before we moved Joseph asked me the question I wanted to ask him all along.

"Will you kiss me?" He asked.

I wanted to nod, but I froze up.

"We're about to enter no man's land," He begged, "I don't want to die without kissing you."

I was scared. I was scared the men surrounding us would turn on us if they had seen us kissing, I was so scared.

I shook my head and he solemnly nodded. Simultaneously we emerged from our trench and made our way across no man's land, but before we could reach my foot had been caught in barbed wired. I fell over and cried out.

Joseph turned back for me, and the other men called for him to keep going. When he reached me he tugged at me swollen ankle, but the wire was too deep to let go. Sudden there was fire again, the trench was a trap.

"I'm so sorry," I cried and I kissed Joseph with all my might. He kissed back and whispered, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The onslaught of bullets ripped through he and I. The last thing I saw was Joseph smile and below the thunder of the shots I heard him whisper, "I love you."

I echoed the same thin. I wanted for him to hear it so badly, so badly, but I know he never did.

a/n: I hope this chapter is a little more insightful of what is going on. If you still don't get it, the curse is that he has to love fearlessly, but until he can do that he will be killed and reborn over and over.


	3. Interlude

Author's note: I'm going to take this time to explain the story I guess. The base of the story is that Logan is a time hopper. He basically has to hop through time until he finally can just bear it all and love someone with no repercussions, every time he misses the opportunity he is reborn into a different era, and he has no power of where he ends up. The plot derives from a horrible joke I make all the time which is "I was a doctor in my past life". (the next few chapters are going to be suuuuuuper long, because they will be more recent and junk like that)

Somewhere in the 70s I had encountered my middle aged attacker. In era of class dispersion I had run into her as she sold "precious" stones on the sidewalk of a train station. She smiled at me as I stormed towards her.

"How may I help you?" She inquired slyly.

"You know damn well how you can help me." I muttered as I gritted my teeth refraining from cutting this woman into sashimi. I hunch over and collapsed into a squat. "What do I do? I've tried everything."

"You'll figure it out." She chuckled.

I almost struck her.

She stood up and gathered her belongings.

"Take a look back." She suggested.

I spun around and there was nothing behind me. I looked back at her.

She started laughing hysterically. I frowned in contempt.

"You'll get no where thinking like that." She panted.

I pushed myself up, deciding I was wasting my time. By the time I was fully back at stance, she was gone.


	4. Please excuse my absence

My brother's best friend died at the beach yesterday, he got pulled into a rip tide and my brother tried to pull him out but lost his hand...so I'll be taking a break, sorry.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/n: Decided to update anyway, though no one will probably read it.**

**Also, I wanted to mention James IS in this story! James is Joseph, and in this chapter I want you to decide whether James is Jacques or Jeremy. (yes, James is following him, I just didn't want to say it in the story, sorry)**

In my next life I had finally understood that my life would not stop cycling. So I decided I would track it. I was born in Paramaribo, Suriname. For the first time, my skin was tan. As I grew older I couldn't shake the feeling, for the past few lives I had look relatively the same, but now I was tan with thick coarse black hair, my hair was jet black, no longer the sun kissed coffee color it had been before. My early years were uneventful, aside from the scars I had acquired from my abundant siblings. Life in Paramaribo was simple, and light-hearted. My father had been a heavy man, he would smile even in the darkest of situations, and sometimes it scared me. My mother was gone by the time I was six. I was told she had disgracefully run away from her growing family, and I believed it. I would later learn the truth.

I was born 1874, just shy of the release of the slaves of Suriname. Naturally, I sneered at every Dutchman I had ever had the slight chance of meeting mimicking my friends, though I did not have the right to. I hadn't suffered the pain; I was a mere result of it. In reality they should have been glaring at me, I was the mistaken one, I was just the result of pent up frustration that had built up through these people over hundreds of years. "My people?" What was I saying? My people were the Gallic. Over my lifetime I would be faced with this identity crisis. I was a Nèg'Marrons, I was certain this was my final life, I couldn't help but pray this was my final life. I would no longer be the same after this. As a fair skinned boy before I was spared the slurs and the dehumanization. Now I was going to face the very words my own parents of my first life had expressed through words heavier and hotter than napalm. This scared me beyond anything I could imagine.

But I wasn't dealt it alone. I was a middle child of eight children; I looked out for my younger brothers and strived to be better than my older brothers. Milo was the youngest at 4 a hyper little tyke with a knack for making things more complicated than necessary. Then Carlos who was 6, he kept to himself mostly; I actually lack any real memories of him laughing. Juan was 7 tall, slim, funny and cute, just years later he would tell me he was gay; Jeremy was 9, not much of a sight, but sweet nonetheless. Gozo was 10, he was a chubby little thing with high hopes for a wife (a pervert at birth), I was 13, Magdalena 15 just like Gozo she wanted nothing more than the relief of lust. Selena 17, was sweet an innocent. Lastly, Isaac-I never was good at describing him. He loved us, but not the way I wish he did.

At 13, my body was an aching mess. The pains in my arms and legs were worse the third time around. If there was anything I wouldn't miss about this cycle, it was definitely stitch along with other inconveniences that came with growing up. The whole experience had become surreal, my mind was still the grown man I was but my voice was an octave higher, I was short and as slim as a woman. I missed my old body, the body of a soldier or at least my healthy 17th century body. But I was to make due.

One morning I had been woken up by knocking on my door, the knock also awaken Jeremy, he then hopped out of the bed and dressed himself, I had not. I had pushed myself up so quickly my head started spinning. I slid off of the bed, barely catching myself from falling and trotted over to the locked door. I mentally and physically prepared Jeremy. I ran my hands through his hair and assured him that the looks he was about to get weren't out of pity or shock, but curiosity. I unlatched the lock and stepped back, pulling the door along with me. In front of me was an older woman, wealthy and foreign. She was probably here to see if he was real. The real life monster.

She gasped at the sight of him and drew back, her hand clutching at her chest, attempting to calm her heart. She couldn't stop panicking but she couldn't take her eyes off of him.

"What is that thing? It can't be real!" She exclaimed, "There must be something in the water here! I must be hallucinating!"

The frown on my face only deepened. They had done it again. They had taken her money, so she could see him_. Just seven years prior I and Jeremy had gone out with Isaac for a stroll through the forest just behind our home. When scaling a steep hill, Jeremy had lost his footing and tumbled down almost twenty feet of coarse grass, gravel, stone and thorns. Isaac and I ran to pick him out of the bushel he had landed in and discovered his eye had been gouged, and his cheek almost scraped off. I panicked at the fact that he wasn't crying, only staring at me with one eye, while the other twitched, trying to move. His dark brown hair drenched with his blood. I realized he'd mangled his arm and his back had been pierced almost half way. I didn't scream fearing I'd wake him from his shock, I called Isaac to help me take him to the hospital, but Isaac was beyond sick. So I ran with Jeremy latched onto my back, my six year old body doing all I could, to the physician whose practice was more than three miles from our home. I ran as fast as I could, by the time I had arrived, Jeremy was mostly purple and yellow and passed out. Dr. Ferreras called all of his nurses and took him to the back room to operate on him. During the time Isaac had caught up with us and was standing before me._

"_¿Qué pasó?" He said in apathetic voice._

_I stared at him blankly._

" _Tú estabas allí, idiota! Usted no me ayudó! ¿Por qué? ¿POR QUÉ?" (You were there, you idiot! You didn't help me! Why? WHY?) I screeched, my voice cracking, reaching a sonic high._

"_¿Por qué? Ese mono? Él es dos! La pérdida de lo que se nos hace un favor." (For what? That monkey? He is two! Losing him would be doing us a favor) If there was anything Isaac was good at, it was keeping himself level headed. Yelling wasn't of his nature._

"_He is important! I would die without him!" (Él es importante! Me iba a morir sin él!) I huffed._

"_Pero … ¿y yo?" (But…what about me?)._

_I stared at him, what did he mean?_

"_¿Qué?" I said, attentively._

_He shook his head, "Nada."_

_When my father arrived he chuckled the entire night._

It took years for Jeremy to come out of his daze, just to be presented as the town freak show. He wore a patch in public and covered himself in a cloak year round. I felt sorry for him, and angry for him. I always rebuked my family, but he would just sit back and take it. He was so sweet and innocent, he didn't deserve this.

Now here was this pompous woman squirming as if she had just been born, ignoring the fact that she was belittling a 9 year old child. I decided I hated her.

My sister led her out of the room and back into the living room. I followed, but Jeremy stayed in our room. I sat in the sofa across from her, in nothing but my underwear; I had determined she didn't deserve the respect of decency. She already though we were animals, why not show her how savage we can be?

Her husband had waltzed in before Selena could even sit down and seated himself next to her, I could see, h was French. If there was anything I was glad I had been able to hold on to in my recent travels, it was my tongue. I could still speak French as fluently as I could in my first life. He was confident, nd didn't seem to have a care in the world.

They decided they would have a secret conversation in my native tongue.

"Il est un petit monstre." (He is a little monster) the woman complained. She nodded towards me.

"Il est chez lui, il peut faire ce qu'il veut." (It is his home; he can do as he pleases.) He said smoothly.

"Pourquoi ne pouvait-il lui-même porté comme un va homme june?" (Why couldn't he carried himself like a va june man?) She whined.

"Vrai home jeune." I corrected curtly.

She stared at me shocked.

"Don't you ever try to correct me, you savage!" She hollered, "I have been studying for years unlike YOU!"

"He is right." Her husband stated.

She stared at him shell shocked.

He was looking me up and down, but his eyes froze on my crotch. He looked up and met eyes with me. Then he winked.

"I am Sir Jacques Higgins." He stated softly.

"Francisco." I breathed.

The women in the room stared between us. I had no interest in Jacques, but I was hell bent on making his wife die of anger.

Jacques ran his hand through his shoulder length brown hair and straightened his sky blue blazer. Jacques would be a nice catch. He was far from scrawny and seemed to be made of steel. His face was smooth and pale. At 13 I was a sight for all of the men around me. I was slim and somewhat feminine, I hated the fact but I knew Jacques wanted me, and I was going to make him beg for it. The innocence that I had preserved for just the right man and occasion still bore dear to me.

The couple stayed the night. I was still not sure why they were in our home, and didn't care as long as they left. I assumed they were my father's guests, but he hadn't been home for weeks. I didn't think much of it, and tried my best to meet Mrs. Higgins' demands. She avoided the bedrooms to her best ability and left for "bread" when Jeremy came out to eat.

Oddly enough Jacques seemed much more comfortable with Jeremy's presence and even seemed to enjoy it. He and Jeremy had hoarded dozens of inside jokes in just hours of speaking. I smiled; glad that at least someone had taken a liking to my brother. As my older sister served supper, I stared at the pair, my heart scorning with a feeling I didn't recognize. I shook it off and continued with my meal.

When Mrs. Higgins finally returned, Jeremy excused himself and left the room. Jacques followed him. That feeling came back, but repressed it again.

After supper I cracked open the door to my bedroom, to find Jacques snuggling with Jeremy in my bed. Jeremy's head was tucked right over Jacques breast (a/n: yes I call them breasts) and under his chin. Jacques enveloped him in a nurturing hug, cradling Jeremy like an infant. I didn't miss Jacques nuzzling his nose in Jeremy' hair. The sight was endearing, I was elated, but the formerly mentioned feeling wasn't going away, it wasn't jealousy, it was something else, something heavier, like un-tempered candy. I pushed myself away from the door and walked further down the hallway hoping to bunk with Isaac. I slipped through the crack of his door and noted he wasn't there. I plopped onto his bed, snuggling with the pillow. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

I woke up to a breeze dancing over my exposed body, I was naked. I quickly sat up and looked around the room. The room was so dark I could barely make out the shapes moving around. I was scared out of my mind, and shaking to the beat of a fall breeze. The sound of movement and the feeling of hands on me seemed to be an unreal containment. I pushed myself up with all of my might and rolled over. I was faced with Isaac's, as usual, placid face.

"Hello." He said mockingly, his tone betraying his expression. "How are you?" He stated, his accent so thick the roulade of words imploding.

"Isaac?" I breathed.

He smiled, "Estoy cansado de Jeremy lograr que todos te amo." (I am sick of Jeremy getting all of your love)

I gawked at him, afraid to interrupt.

"Así que en vez de matarlo, ya que no funciona la primera vez, yo sólo le llevará en primer lugar." (So instead of killing him, since that did not work the first time, I will just take you first.)

"Pero Jeremy cayó." (But Jeremy fell) I said lightly.

"No, he didn't just fall." Isaac said this in perfect English.

I started shaking, **what** was this? **Who** was this?

"Don't worry, I'm not a part of you pact or possessed." Isaac reasoned, "I just wanted to show I'm not just some two-bit idiot."

"Why would I think that?"

"It isn't that you would think that, it's that you would love me more." He said smoothly and ran his hands down my body. That night I experience pain like no other. I was raped by a brother.

**Not for the tender minded**

Before I could respond to his claim, his fingers were already dancing within me, I cried out but was silence by a blow to the jaw. I held my voice as he violently removed his hands from my nether regions and bit and snipped my tender skin. When he kissed my stomach, I assumed he had finally calmed down enough, but he lashed his arms forward and grabbed me by the neck. I pulled and scraped at his hands, which were clamped around my neck. I gave in and focused on getting every last breath. I tried to preserve the breaths that I had left.

I was huffing in a matter of seconds and this seemed to excite him even more. My shortened breaths didn't aid me in the next event. He roughly shoved his penis into my anal passage, without a care. Without even a second of a pause he began thrusting into me at an ungodly pace. His thrusts and my breathing patterns had progressed inversely, as his thrusts quickened; my breaths became more and more shallow. That night I died of my wounds, and during my next encounter with the witch I would learned that my brother had gone three more rounds with my dead body. I also learned, my father had known of this event, this had been the same fate of my mother.

* * *

><p><strong>an:Yes I used translator! I have no regrets :P Though this Spanish is prob wrong, at least I can speak French (Phew)**

**Also, am I the only one weirded out by the new FFDN?**


	6. Chapter 6

Welp, I'm dropping all stories on FFDN, since they are kinda being pussies right now. You can read my stories on: justsoclever on Livejournal Feel free to add.


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